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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633703">Avenging Is Easier Than Babysitting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/idacarvalli/pseuds/idacarvalli'>idacarvalli</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baby Avengers, Crack, Crack Fic, De-aging, Domestic Avengers, Scott Lang is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, T'Challa Is a Good Bro, Thor likes food, Tony Snark, baby fistfights, carol is chaotic, clint barton gets lost, everyone is bad with kids, mall avengers, nat is quiet, snark wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:08:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/idacarvalli/pseuds/idacarvalli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The doors opened as the elevator pinged, signaling that the party had reached their floor. Steve stepped out first- and gaped.<br/>Taking the place of where his team usually sat during movie nights were children. Full-fledged, five year-old, children.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers &amp; T'Challa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Avenging Is Easier Than Babysitting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know I've been on a break for a while but I just got a new laptop so I'm back!! Yay. Here's a quick crack fic about mini Avengers that I've wanted to write for a while. There's no shipping, just crack. Crack. Lots of it. And some feels. Kinda. Anyway, this work hasn't been proofread or anything so there's DEFINITELY gonna be errors. Sorry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The green swirl of Amora the Enchantress was rather alluring, in its own, sinister way, Steve supposed. The Avengers had clashed with her before; only this time, Steve hadn’t been there to fight by their side. Instead, he had been on a stealth mission in Lithuania with T’Challa and Scott. Their task had been to uncover intelligence and find the ring-lords of a human trafficking chain. Sometimes Steve still cringed at the sight of their world today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had hit his head on the mission; one of the mob bosses had grabbed a metal crowbar, a heavy one at that, and whomped him over the head with it. It had been enough to make the room spin. T’Challa and Scott had finished up the rest of the leaders while Steve had sat out and watched, much to his own discomfort. Then they had boarded a jet and were on their way home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly enough, there were no lights on in the top floors of the Tower, where the Avengers stayed. It was all very strange, Steve thinks, and moves forward towards the elevator in the lobby. T’Challa presses the button and they’re on their way up to the Avengers’ floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa, of course, didn’t stay in the tower full-time. Sure, he had his own room and all, but he chose to stay in the Wakandan Embassy or otherwise in Wakanda. Very rarely did he bunk at Avengers’ Tower for more than two days, unless it was an emergency. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors opened as the elevator pinged, signaling that the party had reached their floor. Steve stepped out first- and gaped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking the place of where his team usually sat during movie nights were </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Full-fledged, five year-old, </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was Natasha, with her flaming red hair and large green eyes, standing on the armrest of the chair she and Clint shared every night after dinner. Clint -or at least Steve thinks it’s Clint- is there too, resting in the seat of the chair. His dirty blonde hair is cropped close and looks strange on a child. Thor’s shaggy golden hair and big stature, even as a baby, makes him clear; he’s sitting on the floor right in front of Steve. Sam’s the only dark-skinned child in the room, so Steve sees him quickly; he looks adorable, even as a baby. Carol and Tony sit on the couch; Carol’s hair is longer, coming down to her shoulders, and Tony has lost the goatee and the arc reactor. He seemed to be breathing just fine, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” T’Challa says from beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Scott finishes. “What happened here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JARVIS,” Steve says slowly, still taking in the scene in front of him. “I think I hit my head pretty hard on that mission. Please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, Captain Rogers, what you are witnessing is no hallucination. The Avengers team had a run in with Amora the Enchantress earlier this morning. Mr. Hogan brought them back to the Tower. I attempted to contact you, but due to Wakanda’s stealth technology, I was unable to get a signal through.” JARVIS’ robotic voice echoes through from the ceilings. Steve would never get used to that. “I believe that Enchantress set off a magical bomb; the Avengers were in the vicinity clearing out civilians. It appears that they have been infected and reverted to their younger selves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve nods slowly, and then moves towards the figures of Carol and Tony. “Okay. Is this Carol Danvers and Tony Stark?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the two children chorus, their voices high-pitched and sugary sweet. That was not normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Clint asks, coming over. His five-year old self was annoyingly cute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Steve Rogers,” he replies, and holds his hand out towards Clint. “Are you telling me you have no recollection of being an Avenger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may have forgotten to mention that their memories have also been reverted for the time being, sir,” JARVIS says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can they get them back?” Steve asks, but JARVIS doesn’t reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve… Rogers?” Tony says slowly, his small head peering over from behind the couch. “Like Captain America?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes,” Steve replies. He knows that Tony grew up idolizing him; the kid must have known his name by the time he was five. “I’m Captain America.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And five heads swivel towards him, eyes practically popping out of their faces, expressions close to that of astonishment; Sam, Clint, Tony, Carol, and Bruce practically leap over to Steve, who gets overwhelmed by the sudden influx of human children. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha start to pay a little more attention. Apparently she had always been quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you really?” Carol practically squeals, which is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> strange sound coming from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yes, I am.” Steve says. “And you’re all heroes too. Carol, you’re Captain Marvel. Sam’s the Falcon and Bruce is the Hulk. Clint and Nat, you’re Hawkeye and Black Widow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a hero,” says Natasha, and looks quietly at her small bare feet, with tiny rounded toes. Steve felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the little girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are, Natasha,” he says. “You’re one of the bravest of us all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not braver than you, Captain,” she says softly, but her voice hides a strange, subtle ferocity, one that she hadn’t lost over the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks at the girl; her eyes have brightened a little, and she scoots closer to the rest of the team. “By the way, kids, this is T’Challa and Scott.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott gives a huge wave and T’Challa smiles in his king-like fashion. “Hello,” he says, as regally as possible; Steve can see the amusement dancing behind his eyes. “I am the Black Panther.” He holds his helmet out to Sam, who takes it in his small hands, almost staggering from the size of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a cat?” he asks T’Challa, looking up at him with round, innocent eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not a cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re a cat man.” Sam decides, and places the helmet on his head; it’s about twice his size. He staggers around blindly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see de-aging has made you no less annoying, Wilson,” T’Challa says irritatedly, but Steve sees him cast an affectionate glance at the young Falcon, who now ran around the room with the Black Panther helmet on his head. “What are we to do about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” says Steve. “We’re gonna need someone who’s way smarter than us. Someone who’s at least close to being as smart as Tony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know who can help with that,” Scott says, and grabs an abandoned cell phone off the coffee table. “Be right back, guys. Have fun with the Mini-vengers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” says T’Challa, and turns to Steve. “Well, if we are going to take care of them, we might want to go shopping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for?” Steve asks because he genuinely doesn’t know; he had never been good with kids. Even when he and Bucky had been watching Buck’s younger sisters in the 40’s, his friend had done most of the work. When it came to children, Steve was about as useful as a de-aged Avenger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, kids need toys, right?” T’Challa asks. “And clothes. I mean, I honestly do not know, I have never taken care of a kid before-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re right,” says Steve, picking up baby Bruce. “But where would we go for that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we should search it up,” says T’Challa. “JARVIS, where are the childrens’ stores in New York?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are all sorts of stores you can visit, your Highness. I would recommend a mall if you’re looking for a variety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, JARVIS,” T’Challa says. “I suppose we are going to the mall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott, you coming?” Steve yells down the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m kinda busy here!” Scott’s voice calls back, muffled by doors and walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess we should go then,” Steve says. “Call Happy, JARVIS.” And the android does.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Brookfield Place was busy this time of day, which meant that either Steve and T’Challa would be spotted quicker or that they wouldn’t be noticed at all. Steve prayed for the second, because he still hadn’t filed an incident report with Fury and no one knew that the Avengers were kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Happy had come by and loaded the Avenglings into a rather large limo and driven them to the mall; it had been hell the entire ride. Carol and Tony had started kicking each other, so T’Challa had separated them and placed them on opposite sides of the car. Bruce and Natasha had stayed relatively quiet during the ride, only talking in hushed voices to each other and Sam, who ignored them and spent most of his time pissing off T’Challa. Thor had been the loudest of them all, screaming for his mother and punching Steve weakley, demanding to know what realm he was in. Steve had told him ‘Midgard’ and Thor had continued to pout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kids were hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were in a small store full of toys and baby clothes now; T’Challa had run off after Thor and Carol, who were playing with the action figures, and taken Bruce with him. Which meant Steve was stuck trying to find baby clothes for Natasha, Tony, and Sam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Nat, which one do you like?” Steve crouched down to her height; the redhead examined the different dresses on the clothing rack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of these,” she says, and turns towards the boys section. “I want those.” She points at a set of pajamas imprinted with a big-toothed shark design on the top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those?” Steve asks her. “Are you sure?” After the little girl nodded her head yes quickly, Steve walked over and pulled them off the shelf. “Whatever you want, Nat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir.” Natasha says quietly, taking the pajamas out of his hands and holding them in her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have to call me sir, Natasha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we’re friends,” Steve tells her, and hoists the girl into his arms. Sam grabs his index finger with a tiny hand. “And friends call each other by their names. So you can call me Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Nat says, and puts her arms around his neck softly. Steve feels the corner of his lip quirk upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Tony, Sam, what do you two want from here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“THIS ONE!” Tony screams; Steve leaps backward in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That one?” he asks, and picks up a red Iron Man shirt. “You really do love yourself, Stark.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myself?” His teammate looks up at him quizzically. “What do you mean, myself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean that’s the Iron Man shirt. You are the Iron Man.” Steve says, pointing to the logo on the tiny tee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Tony says. “We should get Sam an Iron Man shirt too. Everyone should get an Iron Man shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want that,” Sam snarks at him. “It looks stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> look stupid,” Tony snarks back. Steve looks at the two children, horrified for a second, and then moves to pick Sam up before his little fists can connect with Tony’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, we don’t say stuff like that to each other,” he chides the mini-Stark. “And Sam, be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Captain America,” Sam says. “Do you have a shield?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do have a shield,” Steve grins at him. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want a shirt with a shield on it,” Sam says decidedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re the Falcon,” Steve reminds him. “Wouldn’t you rather get a- I dunno- </span>
  <em>
    <span>bird shirt</span>
  </em>
  <span> or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no,” Sam says as if the thought of it was repulsive. “I want a shirt with the shield on it. I’ll be Captain Falcon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you will,” says Steve, and pulls one off the rack and hands it to Sam. “Now, let’s go find the others and head out.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>On the other end of the store, T’Challa was having no better luck at reigning in three annoying children. Bruce was the calmest of the bunch, but there was an unmistakable green glaze to his eyes when Carol teased him, and T’Challa really wasn’t in the mood to be attacked by a tiny Hulk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Carol, we will get you the jacket, just calm down,” T’Challa bends over her small frame and takes the jacket off its hanger and tosses it over his shoulder. “Now can we please </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” says Carol. “I’m hungry anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are impossible, Danvers,” T’Challa grabs her hand and pulls her along to where Thor and Bruce sit on the floor next to the shoe section. “Come on, Thor. Bruce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drags them to where Steve waits up by the counter, talking stiffly to a small young cashier. She looks bored and not at all pleased to be there; she also doesn’t recognize Captain America, which is odd, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have gotten everything,” T’Challa says, and brings up the other kid Avengers to join Steve’s. “I will pay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve says, and the young woman that checks out their items turns to T’Challa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she says, and T’Challa freezes because he’s seen the look of a flirting woman one too many times. “I’m Marcie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” T’Challa says awkwardly, and Steve casts a sidelong glance at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Help</span>
  </em>
  <span>, T’Challa looks at him with a silent plea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So is that all I can get for you boys today?” she asks, but her back is turned away from Steve and facing the Panther.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you,” Steve comes in as his knight in shining armor, quickly diffusing the situation. “My... </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I were just leaving. We have an -um- appointment with the masseuse in the South Wing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Marcie says, looking from Steve to T’Challa. “Sorry. I’ll just let you get on your way.” She bags the items hurriedly and keeps her face turned away from the men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” T’Challa whispers to Steve as soon as they walk out of the store. “I do appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” Steve says. “I don’t have the greatest track record with women.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we are not husbands, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” T’Challa shrugs; the phrasing of that question could have been better. “I just want to know- we are not romantically involved in any way, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what?” T’Challa sees the red flush creeping its way up his neck and cheeks. “No- no! I didn’t mean it like that. No, we’re cool. I just had to get us out of there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course,” T’Challa says, feeling a little stupid now. “Apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Carol complains again, tightening her grip on T’Challa’s shoulders. “Can we please go eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let’s go,” Steve says. “What do you guys want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a chorus of small, high voices and T’Challa makes out the words ‘ice cream’ and ‘pizza’. That’s about all he gets from that vote.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will buy you that,” T’Challa tells them, but Steve stops him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clint hasn’t decided.” he says. “Clint, what do you-” Steve stops, mouth half-open and looking at the kids. “Hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” T’Challa turns to Steve, whose expression resembles that of panic and fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clint isn’t here,” Steve breathes, so soft that it’s almost inaudible. But T’Challa can read his lips well enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘Clint isn’t here’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean that we lost him!” Steve runs his hands through his hair frantically, swiveling his head around to look for the lost boy. T’Challa does the same, although he doesn’t have as much hair to run through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clint</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” T’Challa yells into the crowd. There’s no response. “Steve. Calm down.” he addresses the super-soldier, who is now in a chair rocking back and forth. “This is no place to panic. You stay here with the children. I will find our missing friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s chest heaves with the intake of a deep breath. “You’re right. Sorry,” he says. “I’ll stay with the kids. Call me if you find him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nods and turns away, weaving through the crowd, which has dispersed slightly since their entering the mall. There are still plenty of people about, which makes searching for a three-foot tall kid ten times harder. So T’Challa keeps his eyes on the floor, looking for a small head of dirty-blonde hair. He doesn’t find any, so he heads over to a police officer standing by </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy Hilfiger</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good afternoon, sir!” the cop says when he sees T’Challa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good afternoon to you as well,” T’Challa says courteously, and turns to the more pressing matter. “Is there any chance I could use the PA in the mall? If they have one, of course. My child is missing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course you can!” he says, and says something into his radio. “What’s the young'uns name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um-” T’Challa stutters. This was supposed to be on the down-low; announcing Clint’s name in the speakerphone wasn’t low-key. “Clinton.” He says after a few moments of hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” says the officer. “He got a last name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would prefer not to say it, sir,” T’Challa says quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer casts him a confused look. “Well, alright then.” He repeats T’Challa’s response into the radio and a few seconds later, the loudspeakers attached to the ceilings sound, calling for a child named Clinton to report to the food court. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, officer,” T’Challa shoots him a quick smile, but is pulled away by a small hand tugging at his wrist. He turns around to find Clint staring up at him with big, innocent eyes; he looks like he’s on the brink of crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where d’ya go?” Clint asks, his face dropping. “Why’d ya leave me behind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry, Clint,” T’Challa says, and picks the boy up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were gonna leave me,” Clint says, and his bottom lip trembles profusely. “You were gonna leave me just like my parents. Just like Barney.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clint, we are not going to leave you,” T’Challa looks at the boy; a wave of sympathy flows through him for the archer. Clint had never opened up about his past to the Avengers, and the team had known not to go digging into it. But T’Challa had never realized that his trauma had started at such a young age. “No one is ever going to leave you ever again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” says Clint, and rests his small head on T’Challa’s shoulder. “Thanks, Cat-Man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes back to Steve, who is single handedly trying (and failing) to manage six Avengers. It is not a pleasant sight; Carol and Tony are sitting on opposite sides, the only thing keeping them from fighting each other being the steady hands Cap has placed on both of their legs. Bruce sits quietly next to Carol, and Thor is running around in front of them, chasing after Sam in small circles by the bench. Natasha is the strangest; she’s chosen to rest on Steve’s shoulders, grabbing his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The passersby all spare the Avengers a second-long glance and then continue on their way. This was New York, after all. “Steve, are you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Steve asks, a little manically. “Yes, yes, I’m perfectly fine. Wh- why do you ask? Oh, did you find Clint? Oh my god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clint</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He rambles, voice quavering. T’Challa makes a mental note to take Steve for drinks after this was all behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa hands the quivering Hawkeye to Steve, who takes him into his arms quickly but not very gently. Then he holds the boy up in front of him, letting go of Tony and Carol and looking right into Clint’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ever run away like that again, Clint,” he says, and then holds the boy close. “And hold my hand from now on, alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’kay,” Clint says, and wrenches himself out of Steve’s grasp. “I’m not a baby, I don’t need you babying me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, adults don’t get lost by themselves in the mall.” Steve says. Clint pouts. “I think that’s enough shopping for today, let’s go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like that idea,” T’Challa says, and scoops up Thor and Sam to follow Steve down the mall.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Scott, we’re back!” Steve calls, but there’s no response. He moves further into the house, bringing Bruce with him. “Scott?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott’s head pokes out from behind a door. “Hey, guys.” he says, entering the room. “How was the mall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fun,” Steve looks at Clint, who fell asleep on the way home and is nestled in T’Challa’s arms. “Barton got lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, man,” Scott says. “Couldn’t have just left him there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Clint’s small voice sounds from behind Steve; he looks at Scott indignantly. T’Challa nearly drops him out of shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were sleeping!” Panther says, holding Clint away from his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clint says. “I just don’t like walking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You little-” Steve removes Barton from T’Challa’s reach before he can do anything. Not that he was going to. But it was better to be safe than sorry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So who did you call while we were gone?” Steve asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A friend-” Scott starts, but he’s interrupted by the opening of the elevator door, letting inside Vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vision?” T’Challa asks. “I thought you were in Norway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was, but Scott called me here,” Vision says. “So these are the Avengers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” says Steve. “Are you going to help us find a solution?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe so, Captain,” Vision kneels down next to the baby Natasha and smiles slightly. She shoots him a murderous glare. “Now, Amora the Enchantress did this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She came to the tower last night. Or something,” Scott says. “Anyway, Vision and T’Challa will work on that or something. But in the meantime, I ordered take-out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to feed the babies takeout?” Steve asks. “That sounds stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, they’re not babies,” Scott shrugs. “Technically they’re toddlers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Steve says. “At least tell me you ordered from the usual place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Scott points to the now-open fridge. “Stark would never forgive me if I fed him anything but the good place food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true,” Vision says. “While you all are eating, I will get started on the formulas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you would not like to join us?” T’Challa asks him. Vision shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe me, your Highness, I would love to be able to taste food, but I believe we have more pressing matters on hand right now. The world needs its Avengers.” Vision gestures vaguely to the pile of children on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you are right,” T’Challa agrees, nodding his head slightly. Steve places Bruce on the table next to Thor, who was already eyeing the food greedily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we should probably start eating before Thor explodes from hunger.” Scott says, also looking at Thor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Steve says, and he places the kids on the floor and takes a seat next to them. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Vision comes back with a new formula long after Steve, Scott, and T’Challa put the children to bed (after almost half-an-hour of struggling against an insistent Thor). He holds in his hands a Starkpad, on which numbers and letters buzz by in blurred equations. Steve tries not to think about them. In his other red hand he holds a bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have managed to create a solution that will reverse the effects of Amora’s spell,” Vision holds the tablet out to Panther, who studies it. “It should be administered in liquid form. Perhaps in their drinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do that right now,” says Steve. “Wake them up quickly, give them a drink and then let them change back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go wake them up,” Scott seems exhausted at the thought of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, all seven mini-Avengers are sitting in front of Steve in the living room, looking up at him with expressions of mild annoyance (except for Bruce, Bruce was pissed) and confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why have you called us here?” Thor asks, staring haughtily up at the bottle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Vision starts, but clearly he doesn’t know how to talk to children either. “I think the Captain would do a better job at explaining.” He pushes Steve forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks at the children, their hair and clothes all rumpled from sleep, staring up at him with wide innocent eyes, and starts talking. “We just have some- um- juice for you. Yeah. Juice. Uh, Scott?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go,” Scott quickly gives them each a small cup filled with juice, into which Vision’s solution had been mixed by T’Challa. “Drink up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you giving us this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Tony asks, eyeing the glass warily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Steve starts, and then stops because he doesn’t feel the need to explain himself to a deaged Tony Stark. “Just… drink it, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Tony picks the cup up and drinks it all in two large sips; apparently age doesn’t affect his drinking ability. It didn’t surprise Steve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he starts to glow, white light radiating off of his small body in a bright aura. Steve takes a step back and throws a hand up over his eyes to shield them from Tony’s light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vision, is that supposed to be happening?” Steve asks Vision, who watches intently from the other side of the room, not even bothering to close his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, Captain,” Vision says, still observing Tony’s transformation. Slowly, the other children begin to glow and change as well, and the light coming off of them is unbearably strong and Steve turns completely; the others have done the same as well. “The serum is working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the light dies in the reflection on the refrigerator and Steve turns back around to find seven full-grown, adult Avengers, still in the clothes they had bought at the mall, which seemed to have grown with them. It’s truly a hilarious sight; seeing Natasha wearing her shark pajamas and Bruce’s green hulk socks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay-” Tony starts, his goatee restored to its full glory. “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no answer, because the others are too busy laughing to respond. </span>
</p>
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